


Substitute Brandon

by Poledancingdinos



Series: Substitute Brandon [1]
Category: The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Professors, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28014102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poledancingdinos/pseuds/Poledancingdinos
Summary: Emily is surprised to find a handsome young man substituting for her regular French teacher.
Relationships: Charles Brandon/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Substitute Brandon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105706
Kudos: 9





	Substitute Brandon

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know what story they are talking about you can read the English translation: Words of Love. Student is in their final year of high-school so 18 years old. Assume anything said in the context of the classroom was said in French but for the sack of clarity I wrote only a few sentences in French and the translations will be at the bottom.  
> Warnings: vague reference to sex, pregnancy and abortion

Girls were rushing down the academy’s halls towards their classrooms, trying to avoid having to pick up a tardy slip.

“Hurry up, or we’re going to be late for French class!” Emily’s friend pulled at her sleeve.

Emily groaned. “Since when do you care about being late for French?”

“Haven’t you heard? There’s a substitute for the week, Mrs. Hamilton broke a hip or something.”

“It’s probably just that old man who always smells like tobacco. You know, the retired principal.”

The giddy girl hid a knowing smile.

“Suit yourself, _I_ am going to make sure I sit in the front row.” She turned and rushed off down the corridor.

Emily _was_ in fact late for French and walked in several minutes after the bell with a tardy slip which she would have to hand over to the substitute as she entered.

When she reached the doorway to the class her breath caught in her throat. Standing in front of the chalkboard was the last thing she expected to find: a tall, lean and _very_ handsome young man.

He turned towards her, locking his piercing blue gaze with hers.

“ _Mademoiselle_ (1),” he mumbled.

It took her a few seconds before she was able to force her legs to move again. She stopped a few paces away from him and handed him the piece of paper she’d been clutching in her hand since her arrival. His fingers grazed hers as he took the slip then nodded to an empty seat at the back of the room.

She walked past her friend who was seated in the second row, obviously not having been quick enough to sit in the first.

“I told you,” she whispered.

“ _Bon, où étions-nous_ (2) ? Ah, yes my introduction. My name is Mr. Brandon and I am soon to be a history teacher. I am working as a substitute until a position opens up. Because I actually speak French, I am going to be continuing with the scheduled lessons rather than letting you all work individually.”

He walked to the desk, shuffling papers around until he found the ones he was searching for. Unbeknownst to him, every girl in the room was staring at his backside which was gloriously shaped in his tight pants. There was a small chorus of whines as he turned to face the class once again, sitting back on the desk which creaked under his weight.

“Today, we are studying “ _Mots d’amour”_ by Guy de Maupassant. It’s a quick read so I may as well take care of it.”

He scratched at the scruff of his jaw, cleared his throat and began reading.

“ _Dimanche. Mon gros coq chéri,”_ a few of the girls snickered but one raise of his eyebrow as he glanced across the room had everyone quiet once again. 

_“Tu ne m’écris pas, je ne te vois plus, tu ne viens jamais_ (3) _.”_

Her fellow students were hypnotized as he spoke the author’s words slowly, carefully enunciating each syllable. She could no longer hear his words, too lost in her own thoughts. She barely noticed as he spoke the last sentence of the short story almost ten minutes later.

 _“Et je t’embrasse passionnément, à condition que tu ne diras rien._ _Réné_ (4) _”_

He rested his hands and the document on his lap.

 _“_ Alright, there are two parts to this narrative. Who can tell me who the first writer is and who they are talking to?”

Emily watched as every girl raised her hand to answer. How all of them understood a single word while drooling on their desks was beyond her. He pointed to a girl at random.

“The writer of the first letter is a woman, Sophie and she is talking to her boyfriend,” she stated confidently with a smug smile.

“Very good. Now, what about the second part?”

Another wave of raised hands. Mr. Brandon once again pointed to a random student.

“The second writer is Réné and he is answering Sophie.”

“Do any of you notice any differences in the way each of the writers speak to their reader?”

The classroom remained quiet after that question.

“Surely some of you must have noticed a change?”

Emily snapped out of her trans, glimpsing over the pages quickly and realized she had read the story before. Her hand was the only one to be raised, attracting the young man’s full attention.

“Yes, _mademoiselle_.”

“Sophie uses loads of endearments calling him dear, my love, my cat, and” she swallowed, hesitating before continuing her thought, “my beautiful cock” _._ The man, however, calls her “dear friend”. He is distancing himself from her, setting boundaries.”

“Indeed,” he said with a small smile, then quickly averted his gaze back to the text in front of him.

"How does this story make you feel?"

Once again, most of the girls raised their hands, eager to answer.

"It's a very sad story because the boyfriend is breaking up with the girl who obviously really likes him. She even said she loved him and doesn’t understand why he hasn’t been around."

Mr. Brandon hummed at her answer and glanced around the room to the other students.

"How many of you share your classmate's opinion?" 

Emily watched as the girls raised their hands one by one and scoffed when most of the girls had done so, attracting the substitute's attention once more.

“Do you not agree with these ladies?”

“No, I don’t,” she said firmly, leaning forward on her desk in a defiant pose.

“Of course, Easy Emily doesn’t believe in love,” the girl next to Emily whispered to her friends, causing them all to giggle. Emily's face dropped and she sat back in her chair, sinking lower into it.

Mr. Brandon pushed off the desk, walking to the back where Emily was seated. She looked down at her workbook hoping her hair would hide the shame-filled blush creeping up her cheeks. He put himself between her desk and that of the girl who had made the snarky comment. He leaned a hand on her desk, matching her eye level and undoubtedly giving the girls behind him a wonderful view.

“How does this story make you feel if not sad?”

“I’m relieved," she stated, cocking her head sideways. The confidence had returned to her voice. 

He straightened, keeping his gaze on her.

“Why so?”

“Because he is being teasing and cruel. He tells her more than once that she or any other woman who reads his letter could not possibly understand it, he says that Sophie saying “I love you” was something to laugh at, he mocks the endearments that she uses for him, claiming she took them from a cookbook, which in itself is a sexist reference, and in his parting sentence, he says he embraces her but only if she remains quiet. He is a pig and she’s better off without him.”

He winced at the harsh words but quickly wiped the emotions from his face.

“You are correct. This isn’t a love story with a tragic ending, it’s a battle of the sexes. It brings up multiple questions like _Do men and women inherently look for different things in a relationship? Do all women look only for love, while men only look for someone to warm their beds_?”

He walked through the rows while he continued his explanations.

“I will ask that you all read the story again and make note of all the ways he degrades Sophie or woman in general. Try to pick up the various arguments he uses in support of their separation. Your classmate did a good job of outlining them for you. Pay close attention to the emotions demonstrated by each party. You may work in pairs if you prefer.”

The class was filled with the sound of chatter and chairs shifting from table to table.

“I told you that you should have come in early, but _no_ miss bilingual can’t be bothered to show up on time to boring old French class.”

Emily’s friend dropped her books by her side and began talking about how she wished all substitutes were as charming and handsome as Mr. Brandon. Emily forced herself not to look towards him as he sat at the front desk answering questions. Every now and then, his gaze would meet hers.

"You know, I think he was impressed by you. He couldn't take his eyes off you as you walked to your desk. I think he wasn't expecting someone tardy to be so good at analyzing this stuff," she gestured to the story in front of them which was now heavily colored and annotated.

"I don't care what he thinks of me," Emily replied dryly.

When the bell sounded, indicating the end of the period she felt a presence by her side. making her look up.

“ _Pouvons-nous discuter un moment (5)?"_ the man was holding her tardy slip in his hands.

The same girl as before ooed, mumbling something about Emily being in trouble. The girls cleared out, leaving only Emily and Mr. Brandon at the back of the class.

“I didn’t know you went to this school.”

“My parents had me transferred after -” she didn't finish her thought; he knew what had happened.

He nodded, looking at his feet and his hand absentmindedly running over his neck

“Do you - Do you need me to tell them I’m not available for the rest of the week?”

“What would it change, Charles?” she sighed. 

“I really want to be a teacher and I can’t do that if anyone finds out -”

“That you got your best friend's little sister pregnant? No, I supposed you couldn’t," she scoffed.

“How _is_ your brother?”

“Still thinks it was some guy from my old school. He never suspected it was someone from his party.”

“Those girls, what were they teasing about?”

She hated how concerned he sounded. Still, he _had_ tried to defend her during the class.

“It doesn’t matter. I have six months left before I graduate and never have to see them again.” She stood gathering her books and supplies. He caught her arm as she was about to leave.

“Do you think you will ever find it in you to forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I wanted it, we were careful, we got unlucky and I took care of it. I told you to stay away and you did. I have to get to my next class.”

He freed her arm, the look on his face was as heartbreaking as a puppy's.

“I did love you."

"It doesn't matter," she stated before walking to the exit. She had to stop before entering the hallway to wipe a stray tear from her face then marched to her locker without looking back.

Charles returned to the front of the class, sitting at the desk, and dropping his face in his hands.

 _“Je t’aime encore (6),"_ he whispered to himself.

***

(1) Miss

(2) So, where were we?

(3) Sunday. My dear big cock. You do not write to me, I never see you, you never come…

(4) And I embrace you passionately, on the condition that you say nothing. René

(5) Can we talk for a moment?

(6) I love you still

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://poledancingdinos.tumblr.com/)


End file.
